Death's Clock

Content Warnings: Graphic mentions of suicide. Displays or mentions of depression, anxiety, panic, and PTSD. Discussions of death. Not to be used as a guide for relationships in real life.

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Prologue

The sky was dark, with throbbing purple clouds off near the horizon, threatening of a storm to come the night when Elvira felt the hands on Death's clock move. They were white and spindly, with wiry ends that looked like hungry fingers leaving jagged claw marks against a black face, ticking down the time until the moment her life was severed. Her name, scratched in gleaming silver beneath the twelve.

She'd felt it begin to tick, jerking into a grinding start with a metal-on-metal screech, as if it wasn't supposed to start so soon, as if her life had been cut severely short when she met the man with blood-red eyes.

Death was coming for her, and if Elvira knew anything, it was that no one escaped death. No one but Death himself.

Chapter One

An abandoned graveyard sat behind Elvira’s house. Her room was on the second floor, overlooking the vibrant green hill of the backyard. As it descended, the grass soon blended into an ancient stone walkway, complete with a stone wall and black iron gates and archways.

It was a massive winding graveyard, with towering headstones and even a few tombs, holding many places for shadows to duck and hide; their jagged dark claws the only parts of them visible as they slid behind each battered headstone.

Elvira had lived in her home for nearly two decades, but she’d only been inside of the graveyard three times. Twice on a dare and once out of morbid curiosity. The many towering statues of angels, cherubs, or crosses had drawn her in. She’d loved the way weeds and tiny flowers wound up from the cracks of the walkway, stealing advantage of the space to soon drown out the stone.

Stories were spread around town of the restless souls haunting the graveyard and the house on Wickery hill that they liked to torment. Wide eyed girls spoke of the shadows they’d caught darting past the windows when no one was home, and boys wearing brave grins talked endlessly about the screams of girls or the wails of a child that they’d hear whenever driving past at night.

But no matter how the tales twisted and turned, Elvira had never experienced any of them. Maybe her house was just two miles too far from the graveyard and the ghosts never got the chance to arrive before they vanished, tugged by Death’s string back to their resting place. Or maybe, she just wasn’t sensitive enough to feel their torment.

Whatever the reason, Elvira had found no reason to believe in the tales. Or ghosts for that matter.

But she was curious, and willing to be proven wrong. Especially tonight.

“Are you ready?” Rosia asked from her perch on Elvira’s floor. She hovered over a black duffle bag, dressed in a bohemian red summer dress that paired well with her increasingly pale skin and blonde hair.

Elvira hesitated, eyes catching on the graveyard, no more than a black smear in the shadows of the night. Tonight she thought that the shadows were moving. Hoped they were. Turning to her friend with a grin, she said, “Are they close?”

Ambrosia bit her lip as she checked her phone. Only moments after she’d sent the text to their group chat, Elvira’s phone vibrating, laughter rose up from the front of the house and their friends’ exaggerated knocks resounded through the vacant house. Rosia huffed out a laugh which turned into a storm of wind snapping coughs. “Does that answer your question?”

Elvira held her grin, despite the echoes of the coughs rattling in her skull.

They gathered the last of their supplies and hurried down stairs, laughing at the salacious taunts of their friends impatiently crowding her front porch.

“About time,” came Raven’s usual snappy tone, as if she were always left outside waiting no matter the day. But she wore a sly smile as she stepped inside and tossed her arms around Elvira, “Happy birthday, girl.”

Elvira’s heart twinged. “Thank you.”

Raven’s hair was dyed dark purple and fell straight past her shoulders, her bangs hanging jagged over one half of her forehead. Growing up, she’d always believed it was her divine purpose to follow the path the gothic name of Poe’s most famous poem alluded to; with kol lined brown eyes and charcoal lips. Tonight she’d pieced together a gray t-shirt dress with black spindly trees and a single black crow perched upon them, black knit tights, and combat boots to follow her darkly devoted personality. A fake silver ring sat on her bottom lip.

Where Raven was tall and thin, fingers always crooked as if prepared to pick up a flute at any moment, William was even taller with lean cut muscles. He wore his blonde hair floppy, dressed in an azure shirt to bring out his eyes and dark washed jeans. His hands were large and strong enough for grasping footballs, but nimble enough to wield a stick of charcoal.

He swept Elvira into a bear hug, twirling her until she laughed and swatted him, “Okay, okay. I can’t breathe!”

He set her back onto her feet and began pumping his muscles, “When are we hunting some ghosties?”

“They’re guardian spirits,” Raven interjected, “not ghosts.”

“Spirits don’t haunt stuff, V.”

“And Elvira hasn’t experienced any hauntings, douche.”

Ow, William mouthed, placing a mocking hand over his chest. Raven shoved his shoulder.

Elvira rolled her eyes but her heart was pumping hard and she could barely keep from bouncing on the spot. “We’re going now.”

Rosia made a disapproving sound in the back of her throat, “Are you sure we should? Looks like a pretty nasty storm is coming.”

They all turned to peer out over the horizon where purpling clouds flashed with streaks of light. There was a tumbling in Elvira’s stomach and whether it was warning to stay back or urging to push ahead, she couldn’t tell.

“It won’t take long,” she argued, “I’m sure we’ll be in and out before it arrives.”

William snorted, “You know ghost hunting doesn’t work that way right?”

Elvira sent him a dark look, “It has to if we don’t want to get caught up in that.”

He clapped, a wicked smile spreading over his face, “Okay, then it's settled. Let’s go!”

Raven cheered, as they made their way towards the towering glass that made up the back doors.

Elvira’s reflection was distorted and blurred, showing nothing but a faceless girl with a sheet of onyx hair and porcelain skin. She knew if she looked closer her black eyes and red lips would make her appear even more ghoul-like. The dress she’d worn was in solidarity with Rosia; blood red with a sweet heart neckline and short skirt. Sheer black lace rose over her shoulders and cinched at her wrists as well as lining the hems of the dress. She’d stuck with her black converse though.

Rosia had insisted they dress up for her birthday, despite knowing that they were doing no more than stalking the graveyard. But Elvira hadn’t argued. How could she when it was the last of Elvira’s birthdays Rosia would breathe for.

Raven and William burst through the backdoors, howling like hyenas as they raced ahead, and Elvira, buzzing with excitement, was stepping through the door when Rosia placed a hand on her arm.

“You know we don’t have to do this tonight, right?”

Elvira hesitated, brows furrowing, “Is the storm worrying you that much?”

Rosia had never been the type to scare easily, despite her soft spoken nature. In fact, she’d always been the one to accidentally scare others. The Phantom, some called her for she moved so silently you wouldn’t know she was beside you until she spoke.

But Elvira could see the worry twisting the girl’s lips and despite how much she wanted to go, how much she needed to go, she would give up this whole crazy plan in the blink of an eye. Raven and William as well. But, unlike them, Elvira wouldn’t be doing it out of pity for the girl who’d been sentenced a year to live. No, she’d be doing it for her best friend whom she loved more than anyone and who she’d give up her own life if it meant Rosia got to live one more day.

It seemed all of that was unnecessary though as Ambrosia shook her head with a slightly abashed smile, “No, no. I’m just worried about you. You’ve never cared to visit the graveyard before. Not like this, with this kind of enthusiasm.”

“What do you mean?” Elvira laughed, “I’ve always wanted to revisit it.”

But Rosia only repeated, “Not like this.”

Again that tumbling sensation fell through her gut. She needed to know if ghosts were real and if they haunted the graveyard a mere two miles from her house. At midnight, with electricity from the approaching storm dancing on their skin, and on her birthday of all times, felt like the best time to see if the town stories held any truth to them.

“It just feels like a good night for it,” Elvira said before stepping down into the dark.

Chapter Two

They ran after Raven and William like a couple of wraiths, swift, silent, and pale. Dressed in red, it’d seem they were wraiths out for blood. The night was quiet otherwise and though Elvira didn’t have any neighbors for miles, it felt like the shadows were alive around them. The trees to their left were thin and bare, appearing in the dark like wiry arms reaching up for escape from the shadows.

Raven and William were waiting by the entrance when Elvira and Rosia arrived. Wind whisked the hair off of Elvira’s shoulders as she peered into the beckoning graveyard. So far, she didn’t see anything moving amongst the headstones but she could almost feel a ghost in there. She’d just have to find it to know for sure.

To know that once this year was up, she wouldn’t be alone.

“You have everything?” Raven asked, appearing solem. She’d never considered life after death a joke, unlike William. She loathed the idea of haunted houses or really any avenue to make money off of restless souls.

Elvira nodded, “Where do we start?”

“Follow me.”

Raven, with all the authority of someone who’d been in the graveyard hundreds of times, led them through the archway, and for all Elvira knew she had been inside hundreds of times. Many nights over the years, Elvira and her mother had been awakened by kids her age or younger sneaking into the graveyard for a thrill.

There were skeleton rose bushes standing at a height taller than William, statues of saints with their heads bowed as if in prayer. One statue had broken, landing on the dead grass in a way that looked like a person sleeping.

Wind swept through the yard, scattering leaves and twigs across their path. The many paths of the graveyard all intersected in the center, creating a large star. Raven led them to the center point of that star where she knelt onto the walkway, the others following suit.

The stone pressed painfully into Elvira’s knees as she knelt, sliding the duffle bag in the center of their circle. Raven dug out the candle, an ouija board, flashlights, and a video camera.

“So how does this work?” Rosia asked, rubbing warmth into her frail arms.

“We’re going to try to communicate with the spirits.”

William toyed with the board, “Or talk to demons.” Raven smacked his hand away.

Elvira was trying not to fuss over Rosia as the girl shivered, something her friend had quickly made her stop doing awhile ago. But it was hard not to think of how much body heat Rosia was losing, how the weather was sticky with humidity and yet she was curled up on herself to stay warm.

Instead, Elvira forced her mind to the yard around them, but that didn’t help. Her eyes caught on the giant shadows of the tombs and then on the headstones, mind conjuring images of Rosia pale and lifeless, buried six feet beneath the earth with no one to spend time with but the cold statues overhead.

Raven laid the board out between them, setting the planchette down in the center with deadly accuracy. With a flick of dark stiletto nails, she lit the candle. Elvira had tried to find white or even black candles; however, she’d been forced to pick out a red one, praying that it worked for whatever Raven needed it for.

William, expression curious, eyed the candle and asked, “Why the blood candle?”

Pieces of Raven’s hair shielded her face as she said, “I knew we’d need the light.”

Elvira’s eyes widened, “So the ouija board is our only method of contact?”

“I’m not some damn ghost hunter,” she snapped.

“Play nice, babe,” William said, a tilted grin on his face.

Raven muttered an apology but Elvira wasn’t paying attention, she was used to Raven’s short temper. All she could think of was that if this board didn’t work, then she might never know if she could still see Rosia even after Death had taken her.

All Elvira needed was to see one ghost.

But then what? Was she expecting it to look like a living breathing person, to feel and speak like one too?

She deflated slightly.

“So how does this work?” Rosia asked, sending Elvira an odd look.

“Everyone has to put two fingers on the planchette and if we make a connection, they will move it so don’t panic and do not, under any circumstances, take your fingers off without-”

Raven was cut off by a crash deep in the yard and the cawing of crows as they lifted into the air in panic.

They all froze, turning towards the noise. Elvira couldn’t see anything, which must mean it happened at the other opposite end of the yard. Her heart was racing as she pushed up to her feet.

“What was that?” Rosia whispered.

Raven and William shared wide eyed looks before he said, “I don’t think we’re alone.”

Elvira bit her lip against a smile, “It seems you’re a ghost hunter tonight, V.”

“I don’t wish to exploit them.”

“Come on,” William taunted, “you know you want to see one.”

Raven’s lips twisted stubbornly but she didn’t argue as he pulled her to her feet. Crossing her arms she said, “I guess it would be. . .fun.”

“Yes!” William cheered loud enough to make Elvira worry that the ghost had gotten spooked before realizing how ridiculous that idea was. She helped Rosia up as he said, “Let’s make a game out of it. Whoever finds the ghost-”

“Spirit-”

“-wins one of Elvira’s presents.”

Raven began passing out flashlights, “I doubt these will help with spirit hunting but let’s not crack open skulls or sprain any ankles.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance and, brows drawn, Rosia said, “Everyone meet here before the storm hits.” They nodded, no one wanting to be drenched.

“We split up then-”

“I’ll go with Rosia,” Elvira cut in.

Rosia shook her head, “I’ll be fine, Elvira. Besides, we'll cover more ground in more time if we’re separated.”

Another crash, like stone smashing against stone, and Elvira’s excitement spiked enough to make her forget whatever arguments she’d been thinking up.

“See you all on the other side,” William called, already racing away like a child chasing after candy. Raven ducked down another path and, with another assuring smile to Elvira, Rosia turned down another.

Elvira followed a path on the opposite side, hoping it would lead her to where all the crashing sounds had come from before them. The path wound deep into the wild brush of the yard, revealing the more decrepit parts with crumbling headstones and fallen branches.

The faint, wolfish whooping of William echoed through the yard and she laughed despite herself. Suddenly she had the thought that maybe he would end up finding a ghost before her and picked up her pace, running down the path as it curved to follow the winding of the hill.

All of the tombs were set up toward this part of the yard, including one mausoleum. Elvira thought of all of the loved ones, abandoned inside cold tombs, tucked away in stone coffins, and shivered. Surely, these souls had good reason to be restless.

The wind was picking up, tossing her hair and making it trail her like a veil. The air smelled heady with dead roses and rain.

She diverted from the path she was on to hurry between the many tombs. Their smooth plaster surfaces appeared a dark, smokey gray in the waning moonlight.

Another animal-like cry rose up in the night, ripping Elvira’s attention from where she was going as, momentarily, she doubted if it was William’s voice at all. Surely they wouldn’t be as loud as they were with the path he’d taken, leading to the otherside of the massive graveyard.

But if not him, then who?

Or what?

And with her distraction, she collided into something hard as stone. She rebounded from the force of the collison, vision whirling, and fell.

Swift as a snake, hands caught her arms and wrenched her back onto her feet.

Elvira was met with a face as angelic as one of the graveyard’s statues, yet as wicked as the hungry claws of the skeleton trees surrounding them; with ink-like hair brushing a forehead of smooth, warm-skin, with cheekbones like blades and a sharp jaw. All to emphasize sinister-curved crimson lips, the man was deadly handsome. Enough to hypnotize.

But his eyes were what drew in her attention; almond shaped with long, black as night lashes, and red. Red like the blood candle, red like dying roses.

A sound echoed from deep inside of her, clanging through her bones.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

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